I went to the gym yesterday afternoon.

I saw Carl (<-changed). Carl is one of my “gym friends,” which means I’m only friends with him because we go to the same gym. Carl’s a sixty-year-old retired business man who plays tennis five days a week. He’s considered one of the “good ole boys” at the gym. But I’m not so sure; to me, Carl seems much to kind and soft-spoken to be a “good ole boy.” Often, Carl and I will chat for a few minutes. Nothing serious. Usually, I just listen to him tell stories about growing up in West Tennessee.

Yesterday, Carl and my conversation went like this….

CARL: Hey buddy! How you doing?

ME: Doing well. You?

CARL: I’m good, too. I’m headin’ down to Georgia tomorrow to play tennis for five days at a resort. You got any big plans for the weekend?

ME: Actually, my wife and I are going to the Dominican Republic.

CARL: Nice. Vacation?

ME: (This is when I tell him about World Vision, explain to him what a blog is, and then share about my hope that a bunch of kids will be sponsored and their lives be changed. Carl got quiet for a moment.)

CARL: Well, I wish you and your wife nothing but success.

ME: Thanks Carl.

CARL: Are you going to Santo Domingo by any chance?

ME: Yes. The majority of our time will be there.

CARL: I had very sobering experience in Santo Domingo two years ago. In some ways, my time there changed my life.

ME: Really? What happened?

CARL: I was there with some buddies to gamble. We stayed at the nicest hotel I’ve ever been to. It was just beautiful. And it was also gated. For two days my buddies and I stayed with the group. We had a tour guide who showed us around to all of the most beautiful parts of the city. On the afternoon of the second day, we decided to take a taxi to a shopping district. And that’s when I saw a very different side of the city. That taxi driver drove us right through the slums of Santo Domingo. I’d never seen such poverty in all my life. People lived in places that looked like the dump that my daddy and I used to take our trash to. My buddies and I walked around a bit…. At one point, I looked up, and about a block away I could see the ritzy hotel where we were staying. And I got sick to my stomach thinking about all of the money that people were wasting–hell, that I HAD wasted in the casino. I got sort of shook up, wiping tears out of my eyes….

ME: Poverty looks very different in person than it does on TV, huh?

CARL: Yes it does. But that wasn’t the worst of it. After we had walked around for about thirty minutes, a young boy walked up to me. He was a cute kid, probably no older than 11 or 12. I could tell he was trying to sell me something, but I couldn’t understand him, so I didn’t know what he was selling. But whatever it was, he was persistent. At some point, a man who spoke English said hello to me, so I asked him if he could tell me what the boy was saying. They talked for a moment. And then the man said, “He wants to know if you want to buy sex from his 9-year-old sister.” I said, “WHAT THE HELL? Are you kidding?” I couldn’t believe it. Then the man pointed to the little girl who was sitting under a tree a few feet away. I looked at her and then at the boy. All I could say was “NO! NO! NO! God, NO!” And as I walked away, do you know what he said to me?

ME: What?

CARL: “You not like girls? You like boys?” And then he patted himself on his chest and said, “I’m a boy.” He was willing to gamble his life for a few bucks. Matthew, I felt sick for the rest of the vacation. I didn’t gamble one more dime the whole time. And I haven’t gambled since. Changed me in a lot of ways… So yeah, I wish you and your wife nothing but the best, and I hope a lot of those kids get help. I really do.

ME: Me too.

CLICK HERE TO BRING HOPE TO A CHILD IN SANTO DOMINGO. Your support might seem small to you, but for a child, it completely changes their reality. Blogging from the Dominican Republic begins on Monday. Spread the word. Share Carl’s story. Your efforts are greatly appreciated. Thank you.